


1D one shots

by xanthippelannister



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 04:44:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3596823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xanthippelannister/pseuds/xanthippelannister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few AU's from tumblr that I wrote, I'll add chapters as I go but it'll be pretty infrequent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The librarian checks the book out for him and Niall takes it back to the table he was sitting at with Harry. “What’d you pick Niall?”

“Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.” Niall set his book down on the table and it fell open to the middle. “Someone’s left their bookmark in.”

Harry picked up the little slip of paper and raised his eyebrows. “Someone’s left their number in it.”

Niall snatched it back and looked down at the writing on the slip. “Should I call it? They want me to call.”

“Do you want to call it?” Harry asked.

“It couldn’t hurt right?” Niall pulled his phone from his pocket. “What if they don’t like my accent?”

“Then they don’t like your accent, it’s just a phone call you’re not getting married.” Harry closed his book. “It never hurts to try Nialler.”

Niall took a deep breath. “Okay, you’re right. I’ll do it.”

Harry smiled at him as Niall dialed the number and held the phone to his ear. It rang once before he heard another phone ringing across the library, but paid it no mind.

“I see you got my number out of that book.” The voice sounded familiar…

“Uh, yeah I did.” Niall looked around. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Zayn, turn around.” Niall turned around and at the desk stood the owner to the mysterious number smirking at him. “I’ve been wanting to get your attention for weeks, I just didn’t know how else to do it.”

“How’d you know I was going to choose that book?” Niall looked back at the cover of Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. “Did you put your number in all of the books?”

“You were talking about it when you came in last week.”

_Oh._

Niall rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah. I forgot about that.”

“Are you nervous? You look nervous.”

“No, just surprised is all.” He said as he was trying to process what was actually happening.

“I’m going to hang up now.”

“No! Don’t go yet, is it my accent?” The line went dead and Niall frowned.

Zayn slid into the chair next to Niall’s. “I love your accent.” Niall blushed as Zayn pushed his long hair back. “Let’s go get a drink, yeah?”

“That sounds great.” Niall looked at Harry. “Are you going to be mad if I go right now?”

Harry shook his head. “I might actually get to read my book.”

“Thanks mate.” Niall programmed Zayn’s number into his phone before they stood up and left together.

Harry shook his head and went back to his book.


	2. Chapter 2

Zayn shoved the rest of his paint stained clothes into the big dryer and inserted quarters until the little screen read 45:00. He sat down with a sigh and opened his book as he leaned back against the chilly plastic chair he got to wait on. The laundromat opened with the chime of a bell and closed quickly.

He paid no mind to the smoky smelling man stripping across the room from him, until he got a glimpse of scarlet on his clothes that he was hastily shoving into the washing machine.

What the fuck? He wasn’t sure if he should say something or not, but they were the only people in the room.

“Can I help you?”

Zayn looked away hastily. “I-uh nope, nothing.” He buried his nose in his book again and tried to focus on the story but he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about those red stains. He had gotten through a few pages before the bang of the top of a washing machine made him jump, and the blood stained lad sat down across from him.

“Why are you reading that shit?”

Zayn put his book down again. “It’s not shit. Why were you covered in blood?”

He smirked. “Got into a bar fight downtown, I won.”

“I see, why didn’t you just go home?”

“My other half doesn’t like it when I get into fights, but this fucker deserved it.” His face took on a serious tone and Zayn laid his book down on it’s face. “Anyways, I’m Louis.” He extended a hand and Zayn shook it.

“Zayn.” He pulled his hand back.

“So Zayn, why are you stuck in your underwear at the laundromat?”

“Tagging walls, my machines at home can’t get all the paint off the same way the machines here do. So here I am.”

Louis laughed. “Okay, but why didn’t you just go change and come back later?”

“Why’d you get blood all over your clothes if you won the fight?”

Louis shrugged. “Because he was a bleeder I guess.”

Zayn took that chance to look his new friend over. He didn’t look too worse for wear, but his nose was swollen and the shadows underneath his eyes were turning purple. “That looks like it hurts.”

“Nah, I’m okay. What kind of tags are you putting up?”

Now it was Zayn’s turn to shrug. “Just whatever I want really. I mostly live on my own, but my fiance comes by every so often and doesn’t want a lot of paint all over the place. I ran out of room and now I’m tagging buildings. It’s fun.”

“Let me come along with you next time, that sounds like a blast.” When Louis smiled at him Zayn knew he wasn’t as big of an asshole as he’d first thought.

He nodded and picked his book up again, folded the front cover over it to save his space before he put it in his bag. The dryer dinged with his clothes inside and he pulled the door open and started getting dressed.

“Done already? I wish I’d gotten here an hour or so ago.” Zayn turned around to Louis as he slipped his shirt over his head and tugged it down. “Unless you wouldn’t mind keeping me company until mine are finished.

“I’ve got nothing else to do.” He zipped up his jeans and sat back down. “Tell me more about the fight.”

Louis grinned from ear to ear as he delved into his story, and Zayn couldn’t stop himself from losing himself in Louis’ words.

 


End file.
